Standards
by angst cupcake
Summary: Basher x Linus Bobby Caldwell has standards that need to be met. Sometimes, that's a feat in itself.


Basher/Linus

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Disclaimer: I own none of the characters, or anything else except the story idea. 

A/N: I've always had a soft spot for this pairing here! I love Rusty/Linus the best, but this pairing makes me grin!

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Standards 

Bobby Caldwell had standards. Always did and always would. He was a man who needed his standards met, and although some weren't met as fast as he would've liked, he got them accomplished eventually. All of them.

**01.**

When Bobby was five, he knew exactly what he was going to be when he "grew up". He put a standard on it.

And the actual want for it was only increased by his parents. His mother was an accountant down at the local bank, and everyday she came home with that delightful smell of money shrouding her. My "Green Gal" as his father liked to call her. She would always blush and grin like a school girl on her first date, and his father would smile back, something hidden inside bright blue eyes.

Bobby was not stupid. He had known what his father had done and what his father could do by the time he was four. His father had already been arrested four times by the time Bobby was born for shop lifting men and women at the mall. He spent two years in prison after pick pocketing a policeman who gave him a DUI. when Bobby was one. He was nothing more than a petty kleptomaniac, and it was really quite sickening in Bobby's opinion.

Bobby knew exactly what his father was, and he knew his mother knew exactly what his father was. He knew what he wanted to be when he grew up. At seven years old, Bobby lifted his mother's wallet from her purse, putting it in his father's jacket when she panicked later and wondered where it had gone.

They got a divorce when he was eight.

**02.**

When Bobby was twelve, he and his mother living in New York at the time, he had his exact woman picked out. He put a standard on it.

She had to be practical, but knowledgeable. She had to have skills. She had to be able to lie to him and he would never know. She had to be an actress, and she, more importantly, she had to know the law. She had to know what he was getting into. Love wasn't really that important, not to him, because as long as he had that, his life was set.

One of two things he wouldn't allow was a woman other than white. She was to be Caucasian, not black, not Asian, not Hispanic, not anything else. His father had married a white woman, and his father's father had married a white woman, and so on and so forth. Bobby saw no reason to mix the races, make them dirty with blood that wasn't your race, and actually found it quite atrocious when he saw a mixed couple on the street. He said he was never racist, but somewhere in the back of his head, he knew better.

The other thing he would not tolerate was men. Gay men to be more specific. Like the many great Republicans before him, "A gay man marrying another man, is like a man marrying a dog". And he agreed. It was wrong, vile, disgusting, and unnecessary. If the world was rid of homosexuals, the place had a chance of actually becoming habitable.

Bobby met Molly when he was a junior.

**03.**

When Bobby was legally able to drink, he knew what kind of people he would work with. He put a standard on it.

He met Rueben first. The cocky bastard, with the cigar that never seemed to leave him, was sitting at the bar sipping a scotch and puffing out smoke in between. He was watching the football game before him intently, no more than twenty-eight years old at the time. Bobby figured he wouldn't notice.

"You better put my wallet back kid before I call the police, got it?" The man snorted into his glass, the ice clinking. Bobby sat on his stool beside the older man, whiskey in his hand, eyes wide with shock before it slipped away and he slapped the leather-clad wallet on the table. The guy chuckled dryly, putting it back in his pocket, and eyeing Bobby with faint interest.

"If you hadn't let your fingers slip back there, I wouldn't have noticed." He pointed out. It was true, but Bobby had never liked people pointing out his flaws.

"My fingers didn't _slip_." He replied flatly.

"Of course not." The man grinned, amused. Bobby glared at him, putting down a twenty that wasn't his on the table to pay for his drinks. He was done here.

"If your going to force me to treat you to drinks, you might as well talk with me. I get lonely over ice." The man called out after him. Bobby froze with his hand on the door, caught again. This had never happened before, and he didn't understand why it had happened with this one guy now. But nonetheless he found himself sitting down next to the man again, not looking at him.

"Rueben Tishkoff." The man offered his hand, smart gleam in his eyes. Bobby frowned at his hand for a moment, eyes flitting to Rueben's face and back. There was something, although he didn't think he'd like Rueben very much, that Bobby admired. A rough personality with brilliance to match.

It was those kind of people, the people you knew you couldn't trust, but did anyway, was the kind of people Bobby wanted to work with.

"Bobby Caldwell."

**04.**

When Bobby turned twenty-five, he knew who each person he did and was partnering with. And he put a standard on _them_.

He met Saul after Rueben. The old man hard as they come, yet one of the best.

After Saul was when he first met Rusty, surprisingly who he met before Danny. Rusty had been eighteen, right out of high school, smooth and slick. He had an aura about him that relaxed anyone who came within at least five feet of him. Only thing that was really annoying was that, every time Bobby saw him (or damn close to every time) he was always eating something, no matter what it was.

But his eyes sparkled with mischief that had been harbored for years and was just beginning to grow. He had been arrested once when he was sixteen for stealing a $500 vase from a downtown antique store.

Classy.

"You getting married soon?" Rusty asked, curious, munching on a bag of Doritos. Bobby frowned and nodded.

"Next spring."

"Congrats."

"I suppose."

"You gonna have any kids?"

"Of course."

"Get me a daughter will you? I've been looking for a girl."

"Will do."

Danny was like Rusty, but still had his own characteristics. Danny reminded Bobby of velvet, all charm and amusement. He was nineteen, staying back a year after being put into juvenile hall for a year. Bobby was never able to figure out why, figuring it must've been big. And every time it was mentioned, Danny got this sparkle in his eyes of untold secrets. No one else, besides Rusty and Rueben it seemed, knew why Danny had been put in to juvenile hall, not even Saul. All though, like any curious person, they had theories.

Danny was the only one Bobby never fully knew. And he knew he'd be lying if it wasn't going to bother him until the day he died.

**05.**

When Bobby was thirty, he knew exactly what he wanted in a child, even before he and Molly conceived. And he put a standard on that.

He wanted a girl. An actress like Molly. One who could play the game and respect the rules. And a girl who could lift like he could, and someday better. And maybe, for the oddest reason of all, be offered off to Rusty like he promised. It was a rather cruel thing to do, but Bobby wasn't the type of man to care. And even though Molly knew this, she kept her mouth shut because she knew how to play the game.

Bobby was a great thief. It didn't mean he would be a great father. Or even a good one. He was a man of standards, whose needs were to be met. If not always right then, then in the future and pretty damn soon.

Molly found out she was with child the third time they tried.

**06.**

Bobby knew his standards were off, that all his work seemed to come crashing down, when his son born.

Yes, that's right. His _son_. Not a daughter. Not a girl in anyway. A boy. Linus Oliver Varsity Caldwell.

**07.**

Bobby's standards started to slip after Linus was born. But part of it was not his fault (at least he kept telling himself so). Why? Because Linus himself set his own standards.

For one, Linus didn't want to be what his father was making him.

"My teacher says stealing is bad." Linus said one day as he held a cookie that he had snuck from the jar on the counter. His mother stared disapprovingly at him, thinking that maybe five was too young to start anything.

"I don't give a fuck what your teacher says Linus. You'll do as I say."

"But I want to be a doctor!" Linus protested, small blue eyes welling with childish tears. Bobby grimaced angrily, obviously not in the mood, although it was hard to find a time when he ever was.

"I don't care. You'll do as I say." And the conversation was done and over with.

**08.**

Another, Linus didn't care about race. In fact, his first crush was on petite girl named Sherry Takamura when he was eight. A girl of Japanese descent who lived down the road.

He gave her a dandelion the day he ran into her as she made her way down to the park with a gaggle of friends. She turned a bright red, laughed, and kissed his cheek. She ran off to join her friends after that, showing off the flower proudly. His father saw from the window.

"What's the girl's name?" Bobby asked, the question biting. Linus winced.

"Sherry."

"Sherry _what_?"

"Oh, Bobby, please-" Molly tried to cut in.

"Sherry _what_?"

"Takamura."

"You're not to talk to her again, understand?"

"But why!?"

"Because I said so."

"That's not fair!"

"Life's not fair Linus. Get over it." Bobby snapped, returning to the Sports Edition page in front of him.

Linus avoided Sherry from that day on, passing her guilty looks when she tried to talk to him. When he told her he didn't like her, she ran home crying, dark eyes filled with tears he wished he didn't have to see. His father saw him from the window.

"Good boy."

**09.**

The greatest standard disappointment was never told to Bobby. But rather found out.

Linus didn't give a shit about gender. And apparently, as time went on, found he was extremely attracted to his own. Women were intriguing, yes. But men, they just...he wasn't sure how to explain it. All he knew is he couldn't care less what others thought of him when he started going out with James Craft, the new kid at school, when he was sixteen. The kid was either gay, or was getting there. He had started hitting on Linus when they first met in the lunchroom.

Touches that lingered too long. Gazes that raked a little too far in certain places. Words that hid things that _should've_ been harmless, but made even the most perverted go red in the face. Linus was actually quite oblivious at first, and it wasn't until James actually asked him out that everything finally hit him in the face.

"So, you wanna?" James was leaned against his locker, smiling broadly, as if he had just won a million dollars.

"I, uh...wow, ummm..." Linus wasn't sure how to respond.

"I'll take that as a yes." He leaned in and Linus placed a hand on his chest to stop him. James raised an eyebrow curiously.

"Just...just don't tell my dad, ok?"

"Oh...you've got one of them?"

"Yeah." James kissed him anyway.

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Bobby walked in on them when their seventh month anniversary had just passed. If Bobby wasn't so angry, he would've been impressed Linus had kept a secret like that from him for so long. 

James had come over for a "study session". And instead had ended up straddling Linus's waist, their lips crushed together. Not that Linus was complaining of course.

"You're leaving." Bobby growled upon seeing them, yanking James by the upper arm.

"I don't think so," James snapped, wrenching his arm out of Bobby's grip, "Linus, do you want me to leave?" Linus opened his mouth, shaking his head as he started, only to have Bobby cut him off.

"Of course he does. Why do you think he hasn't moved." Bobby caught James by the back of the collar.

"Dad! Stop it! I don't want-"

"What you want? I don't give a damn about what _you _want," Bobby snarled, his fist still ensnared in Jason's shirt, "How about what I want, huh? Ever thought of that? My God, you're so damn selfish!"

"I'm selfish! You're the selfish one! You're the one who hates me because I'm not what _you_ wanted!"

"You haven't given me a reason not to." Eight words and Linus's breath hitched. His heart seemed to stop. And then suddenly James was gone, Bobby standing at the door, hand holding so tight to the knob his knuckles were white. Linus froze for a little while longer, his father not looking at him, anger radiating off him in waves.

"I have standards Linus. You haven't met any of them." Bobby whispered.

"That's because I have my own."

Linus never saw James again. He transferred over to a nearby school. Linus was alone.

**10.**

Until he met Basher. The English bomb expert.

And by that time, Linus had moved out of his home, got an apartment in Chicago and attended college as usual as he could. He was twenty. By this point in time, Linus had almost become so deprived of relationships, whether friendly or romantic, it was almost frightening for him to actually be social with others. Hence why the others seemed to get so much joy out of teasing him about it.

Linus had not spoken to his father, directly or indirectly, since he was eighteen. He had spoken to his mother, had actually met up with her in a downtown cafe once or twice. She said the usual, how much she missed him, and how much she wished he came home to see them. Linus always answered the same, he said he missed her too, and no.

When he asked his mother why Bobby had given his name to Danny, she didn't lie, no matter how good of an actress she was. Not to her son. She told him straight out because they had asked him first, he refused saying he had better things to do, and then gave them his name. Linus knew his father didn't do it out of love or because he cared, but because he _didn't_ do it out of love or because he cared. Bobby Caldwell didn't give damn.

* * *

Basher walked in on him talking to his mother. 

"My answer's gonna stay the same. It's a no." There came a warbled sound on the other end, suggesting Molly wasn't too happy. Linus raised a finger when Basher leaned against the doorway and folded his arms across his chest.

"Listen, I gotta go. Someone's trying to talk to me," Linus said, trying to finish the conversation, "No...no...yeah, ok...I'll see you when I can. Yup...ok...bye." Linus clicked the cell shut, Basher staring at him curiously.

"What?"

"No "I love you" or anything?" Basher asked, raising an eyebrow. Linus sighed, pocketing the phone with the shake of the head.

"I knew you and your old man weren't tight, but you and your mother?" Basher looked shocked. And it was hard to get an English man even close to surprised. Linus snorted, not saying anything.

"It's nothing."

"Bloody hell it's nothing." Basher shot back. Linus stared at the floor, shifting from one foot to the other.

"I have my standards Bash..." Linus mumbled.

"And just where, if I may prod, do they stand? Low enough for a black man to get in?" Basher asked, cracking a smile. Linus didn't say anything and walked out of the room. Basher thought he insulted him. Linus knew better.

* * *

Linus was scared. 

Basher wanted to know.

Linus decided to talk.

Basher made sure to hold his hand.

Linus started to cry.

Basher kissed him.

Linus kissed back.

Basher took him to dinner a few days later.

Linus offered to pay, and did.

Basher kissed him again.

Linus laughed, smiling.

Basher couldn't help but kiss him again.

Linus gave Basher his number.

Basher gave him his address instead.

Linus kissed him because he wanted to.

Basher was more than happy to oblige.

Linus moved it to the bedroom.

Basher felt better.

Linus knew better

Because Linus had standards, and Basher met them perfectly.

**11.**

The phone rang, echoing off the walls of Linus's apartment. Basher lay asleep next to him, an arm thrown over his face. Linus smiled briefly, taking a moment to eye the calendar over his bed. It would be exactly a year next Saturday.

"Bloody hell...who's calling at, " Dark eyes stared blearily at the digital clock above the bed, "Seven in the morning." Linus laughed shortly, unable to help it. Maybe it was Danny. Maybe they had another job. Maybe _he_ had another job. He couldn't help but be jealous of Basher, seeing as he got at least four calls a week that asked for him. Linus was lucky if he came home and didn't find Basher on the phone trying to get ten people on the line at the same time.

Linus groped for his phone, picking up. Expecting either Danny, another fan of Basher's, or maybe even Rusty. His mother seemed more likely, although she never called this early before.

"Linus." The voice said, starting before Linus even had the chance to open his mouth.

"Dad?" His voice cracked around the word.

"What is this I hear?" Bobby asked sternly. Something that was never good. Basher had come up on his elbows, staring, eyes dark with something Linus was sure was clear annoyance. Whether at a call so early, or Bobby in general, Linus couldn't tell which.

"I'm sure you hear a lot of things, so why don't you be more specific." Linus snapped. It was his first conversation with his father in almost three years. Linus figured himself doing pretty damn good so far.

"You're...dating Basher? Basher Tarr?" Bobby sounded gruff. He said the word dating as if it were the most vulgar word on the planet.

"Yes." Linus replied simply.

"You can't."

"I can."

"He's black."

"Your point?"

"He's a man."

"I would hope so." Linus flashed smile a Basher, mouthing an "it's ok". Basher smiled, lying back. He propped his head up the palm of his hand, watching Linus intently in a way that made his face flush.

"I forbid you."

"Too bad."

"I did it with James, I can do it with Basher." The name James hit a soft spot somewhere in Linus heart. A hole he had thought had been healed over and was still scarred.

"I dare you." Linus shot back. He was met with silence on the other end and a deep breathing. His father was so angry, the man had no words.

"Why, Linus? Just why?"

"Because _Dad_, I have standards too." Linus snapped the phone shut, turned it off and threw it across the room. Basher was smiling at him appreciatively. Linus buried his face in the pillow, trying to ward off a headache.

"Nice job mate. He deserved it." Basher rubbed his shoulder. Linus turned his head, staring at him.

"What?" Basher asked, drawing away his hand.

"You love me right?" The question was abrupt, but it wasn't unexpected. Basher grinned.

"Of course, Love." The kiss proved it. The love-making proved it. The cuddling proved it. The talking proved it. Every little gesture between them proved it. And that made Linus happy. Because for once he didn't care about what his father wanted. He cared about what Basher wanted, and what _he _wanted.

Because Linus Caldwell had standards, and Basher Tarr met them perfectly.

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